Chapter 1

A typhoon struck out of nowhere on Valentine's Day.

Trying to protect the things in my flower shop, I had the bad luck of getting cut by broken glass and ended up trapped in a corner with no way out.

I begged my boyfriend to help me, but all he did was grab a bunch of red roses soaked in my blood, saying he wanted to give them to his childhood sweetheart.

"Phoebe's been nagging me all day, insisting on the reddest, brightest roses so she can take pictures for her feed. I think these are perfect!"

I cried out, begging him to save me first.

But he didn't even turn his head. He walked off without a care in the world.

"It's fine, the fire department will be here to rescue you soon. Millie, I know how independent you are! I'm in a hurry, so I'm heading out."

That very night, his childhood sweetheart posted on her feed, showing off that bouquet of red roses soaked in my blood, announcing the arrival of their twenty-fourth year together.

I was worn out, so I asked to break up—and then he was the one full of regret.

......

The typhoon was still raging.

The whole greenhouse creaked and rattled in the wind.

And Mortimer Simmons walked off with that bouquet of bloody roses, not looking back once.

I kept calling him, but he wouldn't pick up a single time, and he ignored my messages too, as if he'd vanished completely from my world.

The table the typhoon had knocked over was heavy and hard to shift. Not only had it scraped my foot, it had jammed against the wall to form a dead corner.

I was trapped in that corner with no way out, my wound still oozing blood, staining the lilies that had fallen to the floor a deep red.

But Mortimer couldn't have cared less. He didn't even put in any effort—he just said he couldn't move the table, there was nothing he could do.

In pain and terrified, all I could do was pinch myself hard to snap out of it, and I immediately dialed 911 again.

The ambulance couldn't get there in time, and the fire department was slammed on this special day too, so there was no way they could reach me right away.

I did what they'd taught me, using whatever materials I had within reach to bind the major artery around the wound and stop the bleeding!

Then began a long wait.

Waiting for the typhoon to pass.

Waiting for the disappointment in my heart to pass.

Four hours later, the typhoon slowly died down.

And from the blood loss my mouth was dry and I felt dizzy and weak.

I held myself tight, hoarding the last bar of battery on my phone, and at last the ambulance came to rescue me!

After that I slipped into unconsciousness. I don't know how long I slept, only that in that hazy sleep I felt a tugging pain, like needle and thread pulling at my body.

When I opened my eyes again, my best friend Yolanda was already at my bedside, and she'd spent the whole night dabbing water on my lips with a wet cotton swab.

"Oh my God, Millie, you're finally awake! You scared me half to death. I'm so glad you're okay. Looks like my wish worked."

"What did you wish for?"

"I wished I wouldn't win a single hand of mahjong all year, and then you woke up not long after. If I'd known it would work this well, I'd have wished sooner!"

Yolanda made me laugh. When I touched my forehead and saw the time on my watch, I realized I'd been out for a full day and night.

My left leg was injured, I'd lost a lot of blood, and the wound had been exposed too long. When they brought me in, I got eight stitches, and after the surgery I ran a fever and passed out from an infection.

And in that whole day and night, Mortimer never once showed up.

Yolanda couldn't help complaining, muttering curses about Mortimer under her breath.

"What has Mortimer even been doing? He won't answer my calls or reply to my messages, and he hasn't reached out to you at all, you know that? You even made the front-page news."

"All your family and friends saw you were hurt, and they even came to visit while you had the fever, but Mortimer was nowhere to be found."

I gave a little smile and said nothing. I quietly opened my phone and pulled up my feed.

Knowing Mortimer's childhood sweetheart the way I did, I was certain she'd post on her feed—and not just once. She'd deliberately post extra, for me to see.

Sure enough.

A few scrolls down, and Phoebe Gray's posts popped up.

Very showy words, very vivid pictures, and someone I knew very well.

"So happy! Twenty-four years old, with you—fun, companionship, and a whole life ahead!"

Below were three photos: her and Mortimer getting tattoos together, traveling together, going to a concert together.